


Murder on the Dancefloor

by 74days



Series: Meet-Cute AU's [9]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Clubbing, First Meetings, Kissing, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Self-Esteem Issues, previous unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 23:44:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2560157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/74days/pseuds/74days
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After getting over a bad relationship, Steve is taken out for a night on the town by his best friend Sam. However, when he sees his ex on the dancefloor with a much hotter guy, Steve decides to grab the nearest guy and make out with him.<br/>It's actually a really good decision - if you don't count getting thrown out of the club.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Murder on the Dancefloor

The bar was fairly busy, and Steve wanted to be anywhere but there. The press of bodies, booze and bad aftershave were making him feel light-headed already, and he’d only had once watered down beer since he arrived. It had been Sam’s idea – his best friend thought that Steve needed to get out of the house.

The fact that Steve had **_been_** out of the house didn’t seem to count – work, dinner with Peggy, the art class that he’d signed up for when he found his work as an office drone completely unsatisfying. Those things didn’t count to Sam. He saw that Steve had broken up with his boyfriend and thought that the only option to cheer him up was to go out. Out out. Out to a bar like ‘Red Room’ where there were too many people and Steve was getting crushed, stood on, ignored or all three at the same time. Sam was having a better time, but Sam wasn’t 5’2 and easy to forget like Steve was.

Sam was his best friend though, and Steve owed him big time for pretty much sticking by his side through a pretty crappy relationship, so he’d let himself get dressed up in his tight jeans and a red shirt and he’d even put his contact lenses in (which he didn’t like much, but he wasn’t risking smashing his glasses in this place) and he’d agreed that, yeah, he was **_totally_** over Brock.

Red Room was exactly the kind of place Brock loved and Steve hated. The music was big on bass and strobe lighting, the drinks were shockingly overpriced (even for New York) and the floors were sticky. The only saving grace was that it was fairly easy to get into – the bouncers at the door didn’t care much about how many people they let in, and ID’s were only glanced at. Being that Steve still looked like he was in high school – despite being almost 30 – he appreciated not getting a ‘really?’ whenever someone looked at his ID.

As he made his way back from the bar, he noticed the mass of bodies on the dance floor, and he frowned. He was pretty sure he’d seen Brock, but the whole place was full of large, muscular men and Steve was still a bit raw from the break-up. His mind was playing tricks on him, probably.

Sam was chatting to a very attractive red-headed woman, his white shirt and dark skin contrasting well with her black dress and milky complexion, and Steve was suddenly unsure if he should interrupt – Sam was obviously having a good time and Steve didn’t want to make the whole thing awkward by marching up and plopping a drink down on the table. So he stood back a little, holding two beers and trying not to feel like a total loser – alone in a crowded room.

Red Room wasn’t where Steve wanted to be. He’d much rather be at somewhere quieter, somewhere the music had lyrics and the drinks weren’t obviously watered down. His local bar, Howling Commandos was **_his_** type of place, but Sam had vetoed that – they were going out, and Commandos was an old man bar. The fact that most of the people there were young and pretty cool didn’t count – the music came from live bands or the old jukebox and Steve loved it. He’d met Peggy there, standing at the bar in a red dress that had his jaw hitting the floor. Of course, she still made his jaw hit the floor no matter **_what_** she wore, but he’ll never forget that first meeting.

If Commandos was out, Steve had hoped that they’d go to Shield – harder to get into, that was for sure, but the music was better and the drinks weren’t as expensive. Steve liked it there; it was where he’d met Brock. Of course, looking back, that wasn’t exactly the most glowing recommendation – because it turned out Brock was a total **_asshole_** , but at least it wasn’t the Red Room. They were all gleaming chrome and white surfaces, the bar staff knew how to smile and the music was a good mix of pop and dance tunes that could actually fill the floor with something other than a mosh pit.

Sam was still talking to the red-headed woman, and Steve tried to remember what Red Room reminded him of. Every time Brock took him out they’d ended up at Red Room, and there was something about the place that Steve didn’t like. It reminded him of **_something_** …

Sam must have noticed him standing a bit away and was now signalling him over, a big smile on his face. “Steve!” He shouted, when he’d gotten within ear shot. “This is Natasha! She works here!”

“Hi!” Steve said, louder than normal, because how else were you supposed to talk in this joint?

“You having a good time tonight?” She asked, smiling at him before slipping an arm around Sam’s shoulder. Steve nodded politely as Sam grinned widely. For some reason he got the impression that Natasha knew he was lying as she smirked at him, so he just shrugged. That made her smile, and her eyes, which had been a little hard, softened just for a moment. “It’s hell.” She agreed. “It’s my last night here, so screw these guys, huh?” She smiled, before pulling away. She winked at Sam before slipping off the stool she’d been perched on, and Steve was pretty sure that Sam would have fallen over if he’d not been leaning on the table. “See you later.” She smiled, and disappeared into the crowd.

“I’m in love.” Sam shouted at him, the music thumping enough that Steve could feel the beat in his ribcage. “What a woman!”

“Yeah.” Steve agreed. She had that kind of sharpness around her than made Steve a little wary, but the soft touch of her eyes made him think of Peggy a little – never a bad thing. “I got your beer.” He said, handing over the bottle. It had warmed a little mostly because it wasn’t cold to start with, but Sam didn’t seem to mind as he took a swig.

“I told you it would be a good night!” He shouted, and grinned.

“Yeah – you did.” Steve agreed, resisting the urge to look at his watch. He was pretty sure he could convince Sam that he was tired around midnight, but a glance at the phone in Sam’s hand very clearly stated the time. 10.03pm.

* * *

 

Sam had pulled him onto the dance floor, because he was awesome and comfortable in his own skin. Steve couldn’t dance. It was one of those things that Brock had teased him about. Looking back, Brock had teased him about a **_lot_** of things. Unlike Sam, who seemed to think that Steve was a good cook, or a great drawer, or a decent dancer – Brock found flaws in everything. Too much salt in the food, his art was too childish, his dancing was embarrassing. He had a lot of ways of making Steve feel like shit, but when they’d been together it had been hard to see and easy to overlook.

So he tried not to think about Brock’s laughing tone when he got onto the dance floor, just tried to find a beat and stick to it, swaying a little and nodding his head to the beat. Sam, of course, was a much better dancer and loved movement – he was already lost in the beats, hips swinging and arms pumping to the bass line. The gym he worked at did classes where you worked out to music not unlike the stuff playing, so he was in his comfort zone, while Steve worked in an office cubical and wore a tie.

There were a lot of people dancing around them as Steve tried to focus on his breathing and worried about what he was supposed to do with his hands as he moved, the smell of so many people sweating and drinking made the back of his throat hurt.

He’d just started to feel okay, not stupid at least, when he saw Brock. Saw Brock with someone else, someone better dressed, better looking and generally better than Steve in every way.

* * *

 

Brock Rumlow had been a great guy when Steve met him. He’d been polite and nice, a big guy who used his strength to protect. They’d been going out for a couple of weeks when Brock had started to change. It had been small stuff at first, so small that it was easy to brush off – little things like asking if Steve thought maybe the food tasted okay, or if Steve should wear a certain pair of jeans. Sam didn’t like him, Peggy didn’t like him, but Steve hadn’t realised just how rotten Brock made him feel until they’d broken up.

They’d been together for just over a year when Brock broke up with him, not exactly out of the blue, but still a shock. By that point Steve had been convinced that everything that went wrong was his fault. Brock had a bad day at work? Steve apologised. Dinner didn’t taste right? Steve’s fault. Steve could hardly pick an outfit without Brock mentioning that he looked too skinny or too dorky. He questioned everything, and even though Sam and Peggy told him that his relationship wasn’t healthy, he seriously doubted that he’d ever find anyone who wanted to be with him. Of course, looking back, he could see all the things Brock did or said that made him feel terrible about himself. He **_knew_** he was better off without that guy in his life.

But that didn’t mean that he needed to see him smirking over at him like Steve was some kind of loser. And Steve had promised himself that he was never going to let Brock make him feel inadequate again.

* * *

 

There was a guy dancing beside him. Not **_with_** him, of course not, but near enough that he **_could_** have been. Brock didn’t know he wasn’t with Steve, and that was good enough for him. Steve (who’d maybe drunk more than he should have) acted on impulse rather than using his brain – Brocks knowing smirk driving him to act rashly, prove that he was more than some skinny streak of nothing, that other people could find him attractive. Other fish in the sea. Attractive fish that wanted **_Steve_**.

So he wasn’t thinking much when he reached out and wrapped his fingers around the arm of the man dancing beside him pulling him closer. “Please don’t punch me!” He shouted in his ear, which he had to stand on his toes to do, and ignored the look of surprise on the guys face – as he kissed him right on the mouth.

* * *

 

It was actually a really, **_really_** nice kiss. The guy was a little shocked at first, but seemed okay with it after a few seconds, kissing Steve back with some enthusiasm. One hand gripped his hip as the other slipped to cradle the back of Steve’s head, pulling him back just a little – enough to deepen the kiss.

Steve had been kissed before – obviously – but he struggled to think of a better kiss than this one. It felt like they were moulded together, every point of contact hot. Steve’s own hands found their way into the guys hair, longer than Steve had been expecting, but soft and silky between his fingers. Steve’s eyes were shut, although he could still make out the strobe lights behind his eyelids, flashing regularly as the other man kissed him like he’d known Steve all his life – knew everything that Steve liked. He bit gently on Steve’s lower lip, and Steve almost whined, fingers tightening in the silky hair in his grip, pulling just a little. The answering groan was heady and wonderful, the other man shifted his stance and the next thing Steve knew, they were flush against one another – the hard line of the other man’s body held tightly against Steve’s much smaller frame. Everything, absolutely **_everything_** in Steve’s life took a back seat to the urgent feel of the man in his arms, the press of lips and slide of tongue. Too much and not enough, Steve arched up, almost on the tips of his toes – desperate for more. “ ** _Jesus_**.” The man groaned, pulling back only a little, just enough to mouth at the line of Steve’s jaw before kissing him again.

All Steve could do was hum in agreement before the man stole his breath with a sudden deep kiss, pushing into Steve even more.

Distantly he remembered that he’d been dancing with Sam, that he could hear Sam’s urgent, “Shit, Steve!” before a large hand grabbed his shoulder and yanked him forcibly backwards.

“What the fuck!” Brock yelled, as Steve blinked his eyes open. The man in front of him was… well… Hot didn’t quite cover it, mouth slightly swollen, slick and infinitely kissable – but in general he was… well… **_stunning_**. Long dark hair – the club lighting meant Steve couldn’t make out if it was black or brown, dark eyes, a square jaw and… just… wow. Obviously, he was seeing Steve for the first time too – and Steve turned to look at Brock so he wouldn’t have to see the disappointment in the other guys face.

“Brock?” Steve asked, hoping he sounded pissed and not breathless, squaring his jaw. “Back off.”

“The fuck I will!” Brock snapped, gripping Steve’s shoulder too hard. “Who the fuck is this?”

“None of your business!” Steve retorted. He’d have thought that he’d be regretting kissing some random guy and causing a scene, but the kiss was so worth it.

“It becomes my fucking business when some dick is making out with my boyfriend.”

“He aint your boyfriend any more, asshole.” Sam snapped, suddenly appearing on Steve’s left. “So back off.”

Brock laughed. “Oh, of course you’d be here, Wilson.” He sneered, pulling Steve so hard that he stumbled a little. “Steve can’t tie his fucking shoelaces without **_you_**.”

“Hey!” Someone snapped, before a fist appeared from nowhere and smacked Brock hard on the jaw.

The hit wasn’t hard enough to break anything, but the shock had Brock letting go of Steve’s shoulder as he jerked back. “How about you get your fucking hands off my guy, huh?”

Brock may have stumbled back from the shock of the punch, but he wasn’t a small guy – and he wasn’t defenceless. He squared his shoulders and took a step forward, hands forming into tight fists as he glared at the man who’d punched him, Steve tensed, expecting any moment that someone was going to throw another punch and all hell would break loose.

“Alright, boys, put the dicks away.” A female voice said, and the redhead Sam had been flirting with earlier was suddenly there, two large men at her side. “No fighting in here.” She told them. “You,” She pointed to Brock, “Go cool off over there.” She pointed to the other side of the large club. “And you three… just go.”

* * *

 

“Shit.” Steve said, when they’d been taken firmly to the door by the large security guys. “I’m so fucking sorry.” He said, only to find Sam doubled over with laughter.

“Did you see his fucking face?” Sam wheezed. “Oh god, dude, I don’t have any clue **_who_** you are, but you just made my damn **_year_**.”

“Yeah?” The guy, so hot, such a hot guy that Steve just got **_thrown out of a club_**.

“I’ve wanted to do that since I first met the asshole.” Sam said, still laughing. “Peggy is gonna freak out she missed this. Best night **_ever_**!”

“Just ignore him, please.” Steve said, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking, I really shouldn’t have, um, I just you know…” He waved his hands in the air uselessly. “I just didn’t want him to think I was…” He ran his hands through his hair and found himself wheezing slightly, the panic of the sudden violence and the shift into the cold night air making his lungs close up. He patted his jeans pockets quickly, realising that his inhaler was in his jacket… which was still in the club. “Shit.” He wheezed, panic closing his lungs even more, black spots forming on the edges of his vision.

“Here.” The guy said, miraculously holding Steve’s jacket and his inhaler. “Natasha gave me your shit before she threw us out.” He shrugged, and Steve tried not to die of mortification as he took a deep puff of his medication.

“I’m **_really_** sorry.” He managed, once he could breathe again, and the guy shrugged. “I don’t normally get people thrown out of places.”

“I don’t normally punch guys on dance floors.” He said, and then grinned.

Steve might be a little drunk, and a little lighted headed, and a little in love. “Steve Rogers.” He said, holding out his hand.

“Bucky Barnes.” The man said, “How about we take this party somewhere half decent?”

* * *

 

Shield was busy, but they’d managed to get in the doors at least, and Sam had headed to the bar, winking at Steve as he went. “I might be some time!” He shouted, over the music, wiggling his eyebrows in the universal sign of ‘go get some’ that had Steve blushing crimson.

“Meet us on the floor.” Bucky shrugged, and shouldered his way through the crowd, Steve trailing after him. He had a nice ass, Steve noticed. He had a nice **_everything_**.

The dance floor wasn’t any less crowded than the Red Room, but at least you weren’t sticking to it when you walked, and the music was something Steve could actually recognise. He was going to try his patented ‘white boy dance’ as Sam called it, when Bucky just slotted them together, hands on Steve’s hips as he pulled them flush. “You got a jealous ex here too?” He asked, grinning down at Steve when he shook his head. “Good.” He said, and kissed him.

* * *

 

Steve was pretty sure that kissing Bucky Barnes was the reason God gave him lips.

* * *

 

He wasn’t sure how long they danced for, because most of it he spent kissing Bucky. The other man seemed really in to it – they’d stopped at one point to drink the beer than Sam had brought them on the edge of the floor, and a guy (a really hot guy with slightly curly blond hair and cheekbones that could have cut glass) had asked if Bucky wanted to dance. He was genuinely shocked when Bucky slipped his arm around Steve’s waist and grinned, “I’m here with my fella,” and left it at that.

Sam left at one point, Steve felt like a bad friend for noticing only when it was time for the club to close. His phone had three messages:

_Sam: Heading out, I’ve put my emergency condom in your jacket pocket. Please get laid!_

And

_Sam: The hot red-head Natasha slipped her number in my pocket like a ninja, dude! She’s heading over here after her shift. DO NOT CALL ME UNLESS YOU ARE DYING._

_Sam: Stay safe though, dude._

“Your buddy already left?” Bucky asked, as Steve read his messages.

“Yeah.” He managed, blushing at the fact that Sam thought he’d need an emergency condom. “About an hour or so ago, actually. I probably should have noticed.”

“I’d be doing something wrong if you did.” Bucky grinned, “I’ve been working really hard to keep your attention all night.”

Steve found himself blushing, and the lights, turned all the way up so that people would get the hint and leave, didn’t hide the colour on his cheeks. Bucky was really attractive – far too attractive for a skinny runt like Steve – and he suddenly found himself unable to think of a single reason why this hot guy would want to spend all night with **_him_**. “Sorry I got you thrown out of the club.” He found himself saying, only to see Bucky scoff.

“I don’t even know that guy, but I tell ya what, I probably would have ended up punching him any way.” He smirked. “He’s got one of those faces that make my fists itch.”

Steve laughed, and couldn’t help but notice that Bucky looked... pleased?... to have made him smile. “Well... in that case...” Steve grinned. “I guess I gave you a decent excuse to punch him.”

“How about you give me a decent excuse to walk you home?” Bucky said, smirking. He really looked good with that confident grin on his face, and Steve managed to roll his eyes.

“I don’t take strays back to my place.” He teased lightly. Bucky laughed, and leaned forward wolfishly.

“Take this one home and I’ll make you howl.” He promised.

Really, how was Steve going to say no to that?

* * *

 

**_Sam_ ** _: I think she killed me. I’m actually dead._

**_Peggy_ ** _: Sam said a guy punched dick-features in the face last night?_

**_Peggy_ ** _: Did someone film it? Who is this masked man defending your honour?_

**_Sam_ ** _: Did you get home okay?_

**_Sam_ ** _: Steve? You get home?_

**_Sam_ ** _: Shit, did I leave you alone with a fucking axe murderer?_

**_2 missed calls from Sam Wilson_ **

**_Peggy_ ** _: I’ve told Sam not to call you, since I was going to pop in to see you._

**_One new photo message from Peggy_ **

**_Peggy_ ** _: That is the red shirt I bought you for your birthday. In the elevator. Those are not your boots. I’ve put them by the door._

**_Peggy_ ** _: I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!!!!_

**_Sam_ ** _: Peggy says you fucked in the elevator. GO BOY!!_

**_Peggy_ ** _: Sam and I are going to lunch. Bring this man whom Sam has already called ‘hot but like damn’. I don’t even know what that means, but I like it._

* * *

 

“You wanna get lunch with Sam and my friend Peggy?”

“Nope, I want to sleep for another hour and then see if you can do that bendy thing again.”

* * *

 

**_Sam_ ** _: It’s been three days and you haven’t left the bedroom. I’m worried but seriously impressed._

* * *

**_Peggy_ ** _: Oh god, he’s amazing. He obviously adores you, and he’s funny too - Keep him forever._

**_Steve_ ** _: I plan on it._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Another meet-cute for you guys.  
> This one one has a slight Sam/Natasha thing in it as people have asked me to mix-up my side pairings.   
> Let me know if there are anyone you'd like to see pop up in the next one. 
> 
> Once again, I'm really glad that everyone seems to really like these little short fics and I'm trying to keep up with my plan.
> 
> For those that have asked:   
> I have 50 meet-cutes planned.   
> Yes, 50.  
> Yes, I know that's crazy.  
> No, I don't have a life.  
> Yes, they are all happy endings.
> 
> Also, as before, spot anything that needs changed, let me know and I'll get right on it


End file.
